


The Star-Jewel of Mirkwood

by Hiver_Frost_Elf



Series: STARkenstone [1]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Adoption, Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Art, Caring Thranduil, Cuddling & Snuggling, Digital Art, Drinking, Family, Fluff, Food, Gen, Giant Spiders, Good Parent Thranduil, Humor, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mental Health Issues, Mirkwood, Panic Attacks, Parent Thranduil, Pre-Lord of The Rings, Pre-The Hobbit, Scars, Spiders, Whump, image descriptions included, just not to his kids, thranduil's still an asshole
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:33:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23306119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hiver_Frost_Elf/pseuds/Hiver_Frost_Elf
Summary: Traders had come to do business in Mirkwood.  King Thranduil’s heart hadn’t been totally poisoned against outsiders yet—mostly because Men’s wine sat well in his stomach—but not just anybody could find their way to the citadel anymore.  Spiders were constantly crawling in.Legolas had joined the guard as soon as he was old enough to do so.  In response, Thranduil had taken to drinking even more wine to dull the terror of potentially losing his son.Hence, the traders.They also brought him another son, although that hadn’t been on the order form.
Relationships: Legolas Greenleaf & Original Character(s), Legolas Greenleaf & Thranduil, Thranduil & Original Character(s)
Series: STARkenstone [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1674592
Comments: 46
Kudos: 34





	1. Men Bring the Star-Jewel to Mirkwood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Image description: Thranduil rendered with many shapes like a stained glass window. He's on his throne with diamonds in the top-left, top-right, and bottom-right corners. His throne has a blanket depicting his trusty steed. He's also holding a wine glass. Thranduil has long, gossamer hair and his eyes are currently closed.
> 
> Thranduil uses he/him pronouns.
> 
> Image description: the mystery child looking hopeful. This mystery child has orange-blond hair, one pale green eye, one blank eye, and extensive scarring across the right half of his face.
> 
> The mystery child uses he/him pronouns.
> 
> Image description: Galion proudly making a report. Galion has long brown hair, and his eyes are currently closed. His robes are purplish-red like wine.
> 
> Galion uses he/him pronouns.

Thranduil had been about to read Noen’s latest letter when Galion interrupted him.

“My liege, there is one more order of business with the Men.”

“We’ve paid them, haven’t we?” Thranduil asked. He was done with these Men; he yearned for the words of his spouse!

“Indeed, milord. Most generously,” replied Galion. “But they’ve also brought... precious cargo with them.”

“Jewels?” Thranduil asked.

Galion nodded, “One as valuable as the stars, but we didn’t want to assume you’d accept.”

Thranduil narrowed his eyes. Galion wouldn’t hesitate to show him jewels. Few beings in Middle Earth could resist them; and Thranduil, as much as he claimed otherwise, was much like many beings of Middle Earth—at least in this regard. One as valuable as Galion claimed would tempt anyone, regardless of their suspicions.

“Very well, bring it for inspection.”

Galion left the throne room to collect it. He’d made a face as he was turning to leave. A mixture of amused and unnerved. Something in it suggested Thranduil’s words provided the amusement. Thranduil, assuming he was being taken for a joke, hoped Galion remained unnerved. Would serve him right, making a joke of his king.

Thranduil had only been stewing for a moment when Galion returned with an old woman and…

Galion was probably saying words, but Thranduil’s attention was solely on the “jewel”. “As valuable as the stars” indeed… Thranduil sat forward in his seat.

“My daughter and I found him at our home one day,” the woman explained. “I thought he may have come from here, or if not, you would at least have the connections to ask if he’s from elsewhere.”

Thranduil was baffled, and Galion was equally so. There weren’t any children in Mirkwood to go missing, yet here a child was. And even more alarmingly, scarred across half his face. Even one of his eyes was milky like one of Thranduil’s, beneath the glamour.

“Please don’t touch his scars,” the woman said. “It hurts him.”

“Of course...” Thranduil just then realized he was no longer seated on his throne. He’d joined them at the base of the dias.

The child was hiding his scarred half behind the woman now. Thranduil supposed he didn’t appear approachable or benevolent, especially not to a child who’d clearly had something befall him. Thranduil withdrew his hand.

Men died all the time, and often of such innocuous things. Some of them even died in childbirth, so an orphan of Man was a commonplace tragedy. But an Elf orphan… Between Elves’ protectiveness of their kin and their immortality and their nigh invulnerability, hardly any Elf lacked parents.

He was so young, too. He wasn’t even old enough to play with wooden swords yet.

“What is your name, little one?”

The child looked at the floor and trembled.

The woman stroked his hair, “He hasn’t spoken a word. I’m not sure he can speak. Or if he’s been allowed to.”

Thranduil and Galion looked at her. Galion was openly alarmed while Thranduil was barely masking his own.

“However he arrived at my home, I doubt it was happily,” she said. “I’ve been calling him ‘little star’ for now.”

“Tithen el…” Thranduil said softly.

The child’s eyes flicked with recognition, but otherwise, he avoided everyone’s gaze. Thranduil inwardly grimaced. A name might’ve yielded a clue to his lineage.

“Thank you for seeing him here safely,” Thranduil said to the woman.

“I knew if there was any chance of reuniting him with his family, it’d be with you,” she smiled at the king. Then she spoke to the child, eyes glistening with hope and tears. “It is time for me to go, little star. Tithen el.” Elvish fell clumsily yet sincerely from her lips. “They’ll know how to care for you here, and I’m sure you’ll find your family soon.” She embraced him. “Grow well.”

Galion turned to see her out. Their steps and her walking stick clacked across the floor.

Away from the woman, the child’s small size was even more apparent. Thranduil tried to coax him to come closer. The child ran to the woman instead. He hugged her.

She smiled and patted his head, “I’ll be dead in… oh, about ten years. If they’re not treating you properly, I’ll come back and haunt them!”

The child watched her and Galion go. When he was older, he’d understand that he couldn’t stay with her. Her grandchildren would be dead before he was of age.

He looked at the king, eyes set in a plaintive droop. Thranduil tried again.

“You won’t be harmed here, little one.”

The child tilted his head, thinking. Thranduil wondered if he had any pleasant memories of Elves, or if he’d been taken too young to remember his parents. Anything could’ve befallen him.

Still, he took steps—hesitant steps, but steps—toward the king at last. Thranduil stayed and let the child come to him.

His gait swayed.

His balance started to fail.

Thranduil caught him just in time.

“You’ve had a long journey for someone so young,” Thranduil said as he carried him to the throne. The child seemed to delight in being held.


	2. A Humorous Haunting and Haunting Humor

“A Man haunting Mirkwood! Can you imagine…?” Galion’s amusement turned to curiosity when he returned to the sight of the king on his throne with the child asleep in his lap. The child had a hand in the king’s hair. Galion hadn’t seen a child’s hand in the king’s hair since Legolas was young. A smile on the king’s face these days—without wine or the prince coaxing one along—was just as rare a sight.

“Men have been known to supplement their paltry power with their surplus of determination,” Thranduil said.

Galion worried that the king had been hiding wine near his throne again. Not only had the king’s tone been amicable, his words had strayed dangerously close to a joke.

“If this child’s family is the one who did this to him, and we give him right back to his enemies, then she’ll have every right to haunt us,” Thranduil continued. “So we better investigate his family. Write a description, Galion, for our kin in Lothlorien and Imladris.”

“Right away, my liege.”

Galion soon returned with pen and paper. The king was stroking the child’s head, carefully avoiding his scars. The child’s hand had evidently slipped out of the king’s hair while Galion was away. Thranduil instructed him to leave out any description of the child’s scars, less his captor use them to find him. Galion admired the king’s craftiness, yet he wondered exactly how he’d come to that knowledge.

“My liege, his eyes are closed,” Galion tried to keep his alarm calm.

“He is a stranger here, and he clearly came from somewhere vile,” Thranduil reminded him. “I’ll bring him to the healing halls to ensure he is otherwise well.” Thranduil roused the child gently. “Little one, we need your eyes for a moment… Just for a moment, then you may sleep again.”

They opened slowly. The child seemed to need his remaining strength to do it. While the child was hardly chipper when he’d arrived with the Men, he was so obviously tired now that Galion hurried through describing his unharmed eye so that he could get the rest he sorely needed.

> We of Mirkwood have recovered a child whom we believe has been taken from his home. He is less than ten years of age; possessing pinkish gold hair, a snowy complexion, and blue-green eyes. He is not a child of Mirkwood, so do yield any information you may have on his origins.
> 
> Secondly, we are accepting wine at a premium. Legolas has been accepted to the guard. The king is proud of him, but his heart and liver are not nearly so ready. We of Mirkwood will tend to his liver.
> 
> Valar help us all. Especially the child. But preferably all of us.


	3. The Examination of the Child

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Image Description: Nestaril has an asymmetrical hairstyle featuring long, thick braids. She also has a beauty mark by her left eye. She's happy you've come to see her, and she's ready to get down to business.
> 
> Nestaril uses she/her pronouns.

Nestaril had aided in both the king and prince’s births, concocted the first antidote for spider venom, and most recently helped her majesty gather strength to seek healing in Imladris. Her braids had silvered long ago.

The king would accept no one less experienced to examine the child.

In temperament, the child was as easy as they came. Certainly not the yowling biter the king had been, or the shaking frowner the prince had been. That was what worried Nestaril the most. Anyone this young ought to defy or at least distrust strangers. Instead, this one complied completely with her examination.

He was resting now, in the king’s arms, his head on the king’s shoulder and his eyes barricading him from the world. Thranduil had brought him to the healing halls in his arms as well. Never had Nestaril seen him so tender with anyone who wasn’t a dear friend or relation. She smiled as she had her back turned to put away her tools. It would be splendid to have a child in Mirkwood again.

When she turned back, she set a grave face in place—in order to discuss grave matters.

“Three days is a long journey for someone so young,” she said. “He will need lots of rest.”

“Naturally,” said the king.

“And give him as much consistency as possible,” she continued. “He’s had enough upset for a lifetime.”

“Agreed,” Thranduil inclined his head against the child’s for a moment, then brought himself back to Nestaril. “Will his eyes always be closed while he sleeps?”

Nestaril knew the king’s worries stemmed from how her majesty’s eyes had yet to open during sleep.

“The Men were the only stability and safety in his life, and now they’re gone. He also has to contend with memories of his life from before they found him,” Nestaril said. “However, he is young, so his mind may adapt to yet another new set of circumstances. I cannot overemphasize consistency as part of his healing.”

“I will outlaw inconsistency immediately,” the king said with a smirk.

Nestaril smirked back, “Well, in the meantime, do warn him beforehand if inconsistencies are going to occur.”

Thranduil hummed affirmatively, then asked, “What of his vision?”

“His vision does appear to be lacking in his harmed eye, but he is tired, and it still drinks at least some light,” she said. “Athelas tea should ease the pain of his scars. You can mix in honey to make it more agreeable to his tongue. If you have no other questions, you’re free to go, my lord.”

Thranduil rose to depart, yet he lingered at the doorway, looking at the child’s face. His own eyes and frown were fraught with worry.

“Could we give him a glamour?” he eventually asked.

“I would recommend against it, my lord. Glamours are a cosmetic procedure, and it would grow poorly on someone so young. It would be like giving him a tattoo.”

“I don’t want him thinking himself ugly, Nestaril.”

“Not even a king can control how another thinks. If you don’t want him thinking himself ugly, remind him that he is beautiful.”

As far as Nestaril could tell, Thranduil no longer worried about his own scars. He was also the king. Nobody would dare call him repulsive in his presence. The child didn’t have this protection. People would be curious, and some people discarded courtesy when curiosity took hold.

“If he desires a glamour when he has grown, we will give him one then,” she said. “Do you have any other questions, my lord?”

“None at the moment,” he said. “Thank you, Nestaril.”

“Of course, my lord. Have a good evening.”

“And you as well,” and with that, the king departed.


	4. A Shocking Supper Stranger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lowered the rating because the content that was gonna push this into mature territory got long enough to sequester off into its own thing. There's still peril coming, but nothing you wouldn't see on TV or something.
> 
> Also I added pronouns below everyone's image descriptions.
> 
> Image Description: Legolas wearing layer upon layer of tunics. He has a concerned expression, as if he can't stop you from going through with your plans, but he wishes you won't. His hair is long and blond and fantastic with a thin side braid. His eyes are green.
> 
> Legolas uses he/him pronouns.

If Legolas had any less decorum, his mouth would’ve been gaping. He’d been expecting a dinner like any other dinner when he’d returned from patrol. A fruit trifle to nibble, vegetables he’d pretend to care about, and his father with a deathgrip on his wine cup. The food was the same, yet his father was distracted by something other than wine. A person! A person who wasn’t Legolas at that!

Legolas blinked a lot, wondering if patrol had gone on for so long that he was now hallucinating. The bridge they’d used when they’d gone out had collapsed. Thick webbing and even thicker spiders had blocked the alternate path back to the citadel. Naturally, they’d needed to devote time to defeating the spiders and clearing away the webbing. Legolas was exhausted after all that—and hungry for once as well. He couldn’t recall the last time he felt hunger. Cravings for honey cakes and other sweets, sure, but he hardly needed much to feel satiated. Or at least for his brain to stop sending hunger signals. Lunch had been rations on the road after they’d felled the spiders and deemed the site safe again. So as he stood in the doorway—leaned on the doorway; the servants, guards, and other attendants would’ve said—he kept wondering if the happy visage of his father was a mere mirage.

He feared, if he fully crossed the threshold, that he’d break whatever enchantment had fallen over his father; and he sorely wanted his father to be happy.

The child, too, seemed happy enough. Secure in Thranduil’s lap and arms. His head wouldn’t have risen above the table without Thranduil’s support. Legolas wondered if he’d ever been that small. He wondered if his father had ever been that small. To Legolas, Thranduil seemed as ancient in years and grand in stature as Mirkwood itself; although logically, he did indeed understand that both of them had been children once. His brain may not have signalled hunger properly, but it at least provided logic.

Legolas noted the child’s scars, but only as an afterthought. This wasn’t the first scarred Elf he’d seen unfortunately.

Thranduil guided Legolas out of his mind. “Is my own son going to stand at the entrance, a stranger?”

“I… I hadn’t meant to.”

Legolas had very much meant to, and Thranduil’s rising brow suggested he knew it. The child leapt between watching Thranduil and watching Legolas.

So Legolas made his way to the table, thankful that the spell didn’t break on the way there. He was beginning to accept that this wasn’t an illusion.

But that also left its own questions, so Legolas had to ask, “Father, why do you have a child?”

“You speak as if I’ve stolen him,” Thranduil spoke as if it was completely normal for 1) children to be in Mirkwood, and 2) for Thranduil to have unrelated children in his lap and at his table. Legolas had been the babe of Mirkwood for so long that it was half the reason he’d assumed the child was a trick.

“Did you?” Legolas asked.

Thranduil was in very good humor that evening, because he replied, “Of course not. Trading Men brought him here. They found him at one of their homes and knew that the best guardians for him would be Elves. We’re sending out missives to our kin in the morning. We may have recovered one of their children.”

“I see,” Legolas hoped the child was of Imladris. Lothlorien would be acceptable but not preferred.

The child ate easily enough. Thranduil made sure each piece would be friendly to a young throat. He was still small enough to choke on larger portions, and his grip on utensils was unrefined.

Legolas aimed to set a good example by eating all of his plate. Every last scrap made it into his stomach for once.

“I heard your group was late in returning, ion-nín.”

“It was,” Legolas nodded. Now that he was sitting down, the exhaustion of patrol was crashing against him. “It was… very, very late.”

Thranduil said, “You look like you won’t make it to your bed.”

“Do I?” Legolas felt his hair. It felt cloudy and dry like the spiderwebs he’d helped to clear. Maybe some had gotten in it.

In any case, he didn’t want to sleep right then. There was always paperwork to do, and he wanted to help his father complete it. Especially since his father would surely rather be occupied with the little one.


	5. Bedtime

Thranduil watched his son all but fall asleep in his seat. Thranduil chuckled, shook his head, and moved the child to his shoulders, “Hang on, little one, we’re going to put a weary warrior to bed.”

As Thranduil moved to Legolas’s side, Legolas made a halfhearted protest, “I’m standing, see?”

“Ah, yes,” Thranduil smirked. “You’re standing magnificently, ion-nín.”

The most magnificent standing was always done by sitting in a chair.

Thranduil’s concerns flared anew when he felt how little effort it took to help his son up. While Legolas had always been slender, never had he felt so wispy. He might as well have been an actual leaf. He was ragged, too. Barely speaking at dinner, not speaking at all as they moved through the halls.

The child rested his head on Thranduil’s own, but his grip held true, so Thranduil didn’t fear him falling. Thranduil would often feel him looking around, taking in the sights around them. He wondered if the child was soaking in the architecture, the decor, or something else.

Sentries moved aside to let them enter Legolas’s quarters. Aside from a mural of battle on the ceiling and his weapons in their places on the wall, his room was sparse of decorations. Thranduil supposed that made the mural and weapons more striking, but he himself certainly wouldn’t be content if his own living space was so plain.

Thranduil set the child down. The child seemed more interested in what lay outside the window than in anything inside.

Legolas gathered his sleeping clothes and took them into his bathing chamber.

Thranduil joined the child at the window, “You used to see starlight out at this time of night. Now we barely get a sliver of light during a full moon.”

Thranduil sneered at the darkness. To him, it was nothing more than a void that devoured anyone who ventured into it.

“Mirkwood used to be so alive with color that we called it Greenwood,” Thranduil continued. “Now, there’s hardly anything green. Just pallid pallors pretending to be green. Spiders creep about—there’s even talk of orcs near Imladris.”

The child looked at him. Thranduil wondered if he’d ever heard of orcs before.

“Nasty things that are closer to beasts than people,” Thranduil explained. “The only life worth celebrating dwells within Elven strongholds.”

The child resumed watching the window. Thranduil wondered if the child agreed with him. Regardless of if he did or not now, time and experience would teach him. Even the Last Homely House was no longer free of vermin these days.

“Father, you’re brooding,” said Legolas.

“And you’re yawning,” Thranduil said, looking away from the window to the much more pleasant sight of his son at ease at last.

Legolas’s hair was growing fuzzier by the minute. His face shined with the remnants of water he must’ve tossed at his face. He looked pale. It might’ve just been a trick of the light, but Thranduil never entertained the idea that he was overly careful concerning the health of one Legolas Greenleaf.

“Away with us then,” Thranduil said to the child. “It’s time for you to sleep as well.”

“Where will he be staying?” Legolas asked.

Thranduil said, “We’re putting him in your old nursery.”

“Well,” Legolas said to the child. “You better not scratch the leaves by the dresser. I painted those myself.”

“He won’t scratch them. He's very well-behaved,” Thranduil said. “He didn’t fuss at all while Nestaril examined him.”

“Impressive,” Legolas addressed the child again. “In that case, you have my blessing.” Legolas stooped low and stage-whispered the following. “If you’re very clever, you can find the secret passage into my father’s room.”

Thranduil snorted, amused. The nursery and his chambers were already connected via a door, although he supposed doors were not nearly as exciting for children.

Thranduil called for the child from Legolas’s door. Legolas was already burrowing under the covers. The child came to Thranduil, but he pattered over to the bed to give Legolas a good night hug. Legolas gladly received him.

Thranduil was glad to see happiness in his son.

Thranduil was also glad to see a child in Mirkwood again. Thranduil didn’t blame his people for forgoing childbearing in such a grim land. A life devoid of starlight wasn’t something he’d wish on any Elf. Imladris or Lothlorien would be better for the child.

But for now, the child was in Mirkwood, and Mirkwood could provide plenty of security and comfort for him.


	6. Mommy...

The king showed off his own room since it was on their way to the nursery. His room had lots of animals carved into the furniture. Horses with curvy branch-like things sprouting from their heads.

His bed also had curvy branch-like things and sparkly curtains on the frame. The curtains felt pebbly. The curvy branch-like things were too high to reach, but the child supposed they felt smooth like most shiny wood did.

Legolas hadn’t had curvy things or curtains on his bed. The king had straight hair and curvy things whereas Legolas had braids yet no curvy things. Little Star found this funny.

Another funny thing was how, despite all the animal art around him, he hadn’t seen any actual animals in the citadel. Not a single chicken, goat, or horse—neither a regular one nor one with curvy branch-like things on its head. Maybe they were all in another citadel. A whole citadel just for chickens! Little Star would love that.

“What are you smiling about?” the king asked with a smile of his own.

Little Star wasn’t sure how to explain. Kings liked fancy words, and Little Star knew he didn’t know a lot of those. The fanciest word he knew was “citadel”—he’d learned it this morning—and “citadel” wouldn’t help him here.

Perhaps it was better that way. The king liked him enough without him talking. He didn’t want to make the king angry at him.

The king held out his hand, “Come along. Even us Elves need rest.”

Little Star did like holding people’s hands. And the king had not only skin and bone and flesh to feel, but also rings. One flat and one rounded. His hand was as smooth and cool as his hair, it seemed.

Little Star nibbled a finger on his free hand. He wasn’t biting, just holding and some light squeezing. With his teeth.

“I imagine your dreams will bring you many things to smile about, sleeping here,” the king said as they entered the nursery.

The nursery had many soft things. Pillows to hug and blankets to roll up into. There was a rocking chair for grownups that looked sturdier than his mommy’s. Even by the faint light, he could see butterflies carved into the back and armrests.

Little Star looked up. There were stars and a sliver of a moon painted on the ceiling. They were all glowing. Little Star turned to count them all.

“My spouse painted those,” the king said fondly. “She didn’t want our child to sleep in darkness. And now, that safety is yours, while you’re here.” The king frowned. “Perhaps she foresaw the darkening of the forest…”

That would make sense. Mommies saw everything. Once, his mommy saw some boys who were about to pull his ears. Little Star hadn’t even seen the boys. Seeing a forest darkening would’ve been no sweat for a mommy.

Little Star made it to three sets of twelve. He forgot how many numbers were between twelve and fifteen. Three? Maybe four??? At any rate, there were three sets of twelve and then four more stars. He didn’t know what number three sets of twelve and four more was, but it sounded like a lot. The king or Legolas would probably know!

...Little Star didn’t know why it was so hard for him to ask an easy question. Was it because he was trying to ask a stranger? But he hadn’t asked his mommy or sister anything, and they certainly weren’t strangers. All he knew was that everything stopped working when he tried to speak. However much he wanted more knowledge, he needed to breathe more.

“Easy now, little one…” the king rubbed his back.

Little Star finally noticed how hard and fast he was breathing. It was really hard to stand right now.

“You’re safe here,” the king said. Little Star wanted to believe him. But even the king admitted he’d only be here until they found his family. And then would his family be safe?

He wanted was his mommy and his sister…

He might never get to hold their hands again! He wanted to tell them he loved him. He wanted to chase the chickens and help collect their eggs. He wanted to keep the goats from eating everything in the garden. He wanted to hear his mommy’s rocking chair creak, his sister whistling, and the windchimes clinking.


	7. The Great King of Mirkwood—Trapped!

Thranduil didn’t know how long the child had been lost to the world, but it was apparently long enough for himself to slip into sleep. He woke to something clutching his side. At first, he’d thought a spider had somehow made its wretched way into his home.

It was just the child. Thranduil breathed again and held him.

“While you are in my care, I will make sure you receive all the care you need,” Thranduil said. “And if caring for you means reminding you that you’re safe here every hour, I’ll set a schedule. You are safe here, little one.”

The child’s eyes were damp and alarmed. He wasn’t Legolas: raised in safety since birth. He had experienced unknown things, terrible things. His family needed to understand that.

The messages hadn’t included descriptions of his scars and eye for fear of alerting his captor, but now Thranduil dreaded that it would make his family expect an unharmed child. Just like physical scars marked his face, so too, had he scars upon his mind. A young mind, that with proper care, might come to understand its owner was somewhere safe at last. Or it might cloak itself in normalcy to survive a house with no patience for peculiarities.

Thranduil supposed he could overrule the claim of the parents. This was his kingdom, after all.

On the other hand, despite how his people forwent children of their own, they would not accept their king stealing another’s. Thranduil could see his bolder subjects sneaking the child out to his parents.

Still, it would be several weeks before a reply returned from Imladris. Months from Lothlorien. Thranduil would do what he could while the child was here.

“And how did you get in here?” Thranduil asked when his son appeared in the doorway to the nursery. The child watched him, too.

“I used the secret passage-ment,” Legolas beamed with pride.

Thranduil wondered if he’d notice.

“Way… passageway,” Legolas pushed into his temple. “I’m tired, Ada.”

“Well, come join us, then,” Thranduil said. “There’s nothing better for exhaustion than a cuddle—when sleep proves elusive.”

Now, Thranduil had meant for Legolas to help in the cuddling of the child. However, Thranduil wouldn’t deny the charm of him going to himself instead. It felt like ages since Legolas had come to him for this kind of comfort. And he had plenty of cuddles for the both of them.

The child reached out for Legolas’s hand. Legolas took it with a grin.

“Should I call for the guards?” Thranduil smiled. “I seem to have found myself trapped between two adorable children.”

“You’re never escaping, oh Great King of Mirkwood,” Legolas threw his legs over Thranduil for good measure. The child smiled and snuggled closer. Legolas laid his head on Thranduil’s chest. “You’ll be trapped here forever.”

“Oh my,” Thranduil said without concern. “...I do believe you just admitted you’re a child.”

“I admitted no such thing.”

“I explicitly said ‘two adorable children’, and as you didn’t correct me, that makes you a child,” Thranduil rolled Legolas over to tickle him. “Which means you’ll be trapped here forever.”

“Little one, save me!” Legolas’s plea burst out before laughter overtook him.

The child scampered up Thranduil’s back. A few swipes at his neck was all Thranduil gave him before he reached back and grabbed him! The child was giggling already, and Thranduil hadn’t done anything to him yet.

His distraction was all Legolas needed to recover the child. Legolas grinned, “Come on, little one, even the mightiest beast can be felled.”

“Oh, you might find me more cunning than a mere beast, little elf,” Thranduil watched them both.

“I am no child,” Legolas spoke as if he was boasting as per a hero of epic tradition.

“Ah, yes, I see,” Thranduil pounced and had Legolas in his grasp once more. “You’re clearly a newborn cub. Nowhere near ready enough to leave Ada’s den.”

The child clambered up Thranduil’s back again.

“If I’m a newborn,” Legolas laughed breathlessly, “what does that make him?”

“Another newborn,” Thranduil wrangled them both beneath him. “Cubs are born in litters, after all.”

“Ada, release me!”

“Perhaps. If you ask nicely,” Thranduil grinned down at them. “The Great King of Mirkwood is known to show mercy on occasion.”

“Please?” Legolas implored him with an adorable tone whereas the child did so with adorable eyes.

“Oh, very well,” Thranduil said. “But not tonight. Tonight, you’re mine. Both of you.”

“I’ll always be yours, Father,” Legolas said as the game returned to cuddling. “And I doubt the little one will forget his time here.”

Thranduil hummed in agreement. If he spoke, he might’ve given away his growing envy of whoever had claim over him.

As they all cozied up together under the covers, Thranduil wondered if it was too late to belay the messengers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So all this (chapters 1-7) were all originally one chapter, but I figured that breaking them up would make it clearer where the POV shifts.
> 
> This is the last of the daily updates, at least for right now. I needed to restructure the next part of the story even as recently as yesterday. I don't want to post anything and then have to redact it, so it just makes more sense to hold the next set of chapters back until they're complete. I'll return to daily updates when the next set's complete. So subscribe to the fic or the series if you're interested in more!

**Author's Note:**

> I respond to comments, so let me know if you're liking this so far.
> 
> Thanks for taking time to read this; enjoy what you do here and everywhere!


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